“Dark Dances”

The dark depresses me,
soul hibernating in this
season of cold things
and distant love.

My self unfurls in curls
of smoke and wispy breath
to form the phrase I
have been looking for:

The milk-near word,
so close to the breast,
so far from the lips;
frozen by arctic winds.

Tomorrow comes slowly,
ends quickly,
and life goes rushing on
in underground tunnels,

subterraneous creatures
chasing wealth, warmth
and a hundred other
tired illusions.

Yet the darkness has
its own kind of clarity,
its own blind revelations
lurking in murky corners

of my manipulative mind,
where magic men
and myth meet,
where the dancing never ends.

3 thoughts on ““Dark Dances”

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